Someone Like You
by SensuallyPassionate
Summary: Quick one-shot on the relationship of Harold and Patty.


**A/N: I took a short break to write a quick one-shot featuring another couple that does not get enough love in the Hey Arnold section; Patty and Harold. Don't think I forgot about my Gerald and Phoebe. That will be up tomorrow. Yay! This is dedicated to 'Harold'. Enjoy my twisted dark fantasies. Happy Reading**

**Story theme: Adele: "Someone Like You"**

**Patty**

I wish things could have turned out differently. I wish I was the warm body he would wake up to every morning instead of a different, nameless face. Rhonda, Linda, Nadine, Kiesha, Veronica, Emily. I stopped keeping track after his rendezvous with the triplets Erin, Ericka, and Iris. I don't know what made me begin to care, let alone grow as jealous as I did but I could not help it. Seeing him hug and kiss all over scantily clad women while they rub their sparsely covered backsides against his bulging crotch as a loyal, faithful, wife-type looms in the distance turned from a soft-spoken, well-mannered woman into a callous, green-eyes bitch made my blood boil. I didn't know I developed strong, intense feelings for him until recently.

We tried the dating thing once or twice but it never panned out very well because either we were both too young and not ready for a serious, committed relationship or it was due to his infidelity issues. Harold had an addiction to women. As much as he loved and worshiped me, he loved the feel, caress, warmth, and attention from women much more. There were days were I was the happiest; roses scattered across the bed sheets while smooth jazz echoed throughout our rented home. Vanilla scented candles, strawberries dipped in chocolate as two flutes of champagne lay gracefully along the riser of the California king bed. He would plan these special evenings on the days when he would hurt me the most. I would find a text from a woman here or a bra and panty that belonged to another there; leaving him to coddle me with a lie and pretend I was the one delusional. Those days I would storm out of our shared apartment and take a long drive to clear my mind; crying to the soft melodies of Adele's _Set Fire to the Rain You_ or Christina Aguilera's _You Lost Me_. Those evenings I would come home from a day filled with shedding useless tears to Harold's demonstration of affection. We would nurse the strawberries down with the glasses of champagne before he would lay me gently against the rose kissed sheets to make passionate, soft love to me. Tender kisses would trail down my neck, towards the valley of my breasts, to the hills of my thighs. His featherlike touches would make the faceless women in my head grow mute as he became my one and only- even if it were for one evening.

The following mornings I would find him missing, a single rose resting atop the pillow beside me where he once nestled peacefully. I always knew he went off to another woman's home to snuggle beside her in her bed. I would call relentlessly for the decency of an answer but to no avail. I even begged a couple of times; though it never changed anything. One evening I simply had enough. I found him stained with love marks that did not belong to me and told him I could not go through with it any longer. Before he could say a single word, I grabbed my purse and headed to my parent's home on the other part of town. I stayed there for a few days before returning home to find a half-empty house. I noticed Harold's clothing was packed and removed, as well as his shoes, toiletries, and other personal belongings. In a state of panic I began to worry before seeing a note taped to the refrigerator door. In Harold's signature handwriting, beheld:

_Don't forget me, I beg. I will find someone like you…_

It was all that needed to be said.

That was three years ago and to this very day the mere thought brings tears to my eyes from the distant memory that should have been my present reality. Even though I am married, with a two year old son, and in love with a man that treats me kind and well, my heart still and always will belong to Harold. I heard he moved somewhere downstate to get away from all the commotion of the city and was still fighting his lust with women. I know Harold will one day find happiness, just like I found mine; but it doesn't hurt to dream that things could have played out differently between us. Within the three years we have been separated, I have only gotten one letter from him. He resists the urge to write me in an effort to keep our mutual feelings at bay in respect for my husband and family. Though he was man enough to admit his faults and remain truthful to himself, he thoroughly understands that he and I remain this way because of his insatiable desires. His letter was short, simple, and sweet.

_I heard that you settled down, found a man, that you're married now. I heard that your dreams came true. I guess he gave you things I could not give to you. I wish nothing but the best for you. _

On evenings where Steven and our son lay asleep or I have a peaceful moment to myself, I put on my music player and quietly hum along; quoting Harold's letter.

_Nevermind, I'll find someone like you…_


End file.
